


Granger's Anatomy

by RedHummingbird



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Colin Creevey Lives, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Healers, Inspired by Grey's Anatomy, M/M, Medical, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Slow Burn, St Mungo's Hospital, St. Mungo's Healers (Harry Potter), To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHummingbird/pseuds/RedHummingbird
Summary: Hermione Granger enrols in the Trainee Surgical Healer program at St Mungo's, with four other individuals that she recognises from Hogwarts. This magical medical drama follows Hermione and the other healers at St Mungo's who are faced with life-or-death decisions on a daily basis. They seek comfort from one another, and, at times, more than just friendship...*Loosely* follows the plot of Grey's Anatomy, with a magical twist.The first shift for new Trainee Surgical Healers Hermione, Astoria, Luna, Colin, and Draco proves both eventful and backbreaking.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Granger's Anatomy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything from Harry Potter. I also do not own anything from Grey's Anatomy. I have used both as inspiration for characters, plot, and dialogue, but I will not be sticking religiously to canon from either.

**CHAPTER ONE: A HARD DAY’S NIGHT**

Before even really waking up, Hermione was conscious of pounding in her temples and a terrible taste in her mouth. _Urgghhh..._

She blinked her eyes open, a few times; it felt like her eyelids were crusty and stuck together. _What the hell did I do last night?_ She focussed her eyes, and could immediately tell that she was lying on the couch in the main lounge of Grimmauld Place, given the heavy dark green curtains in front of her, letting in a stream of light which was very unpleasant for her hangover. _Well, at least I made it home._

As she was trying to put together the fractured memories in her mind from the night before, she heard someone groan. A male someone. _Oh.... God. What did I do..._

She glanced down to discover that she was totally naked. Thankfully, the male voice seemed to be coming from behind the back of the couch, and therefore out of sight. Thank heavens for small mercies. She reached for her wand, which thankfully was lying on the floor by her head, and transfigured a cushion into a sheet to wrap around herself before pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

A naked man was lying on the floor. His naked arse was right there. Admittedly, it was a nice arse, but it was extremely naked. Hermione felt her cheeks go red. She picked up another cushion and transfigured it into a sheet to throw over him; as he felt it land over him, he looked up at her and grinned. Hermione looked him up and down; he was cute. Thick dark brown hair, slightly tanned white skin, classic features, nice body; a bit older than her, but not too much. She suddenly realised that she had no idea what his name was.

He looked down at his own nakedness and smirked. "Well, this is humiliating on so many levels."

Hermione glanced up at the large clock on the wall and frowned. Shit! If she didn't get a move on, she was going to be late. "You have to go," she told the naked man.

He laughed. "Why don't you just come back down here, and we'll pick up where we left off?" 

She wasn't in the mood for joking around. "No, seriously. You have to go. I'm late, which isn't what you want to be on your first day of work, so..."

He didn't seem bothered. Instead, he sat up and looked around the room. "So... you actually live here?" He raised an eyebrow at the tapestry on the wall displaying the Black family tree, with all its pure bloods and scorch marks. 

"No. Uh... yes. Kind of. " It had been been a weird month. Hermione was still getting used to her new abode.

"It's nice," he said cautiously. "A little dusty... odd.. but it's nice." He looked back up at Hermione. "So how do you 'kind of' live here?"

"I just moved in a few weeks ago. It was my friend's place.”

He looked sombre. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Hermione was confused. It was a little dark, sure, but it wasn't that bad.

"You said 'was'?"

"Oh - my friend's not dead. He's-" she realised that if she told the man that her friend was Harry Potter, and got into the tale of how he came by the house, and why he wasn't living there, it would take forever. Instead, she shot him an awkward half-smile. "You know what? We don't have to do the thing."

"We can do anything you want." The man stood lazily, pulling the sheet up to cover his private bits. Then he winked lasciviously at her, and she felt herself blush again.

"No... you know, the thing. Exchange the details, pretend we care." The man raised his eyebrows at her bluntness, and then grinned at her. Hermione needed to get out of this situation, stat. "I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, okay? And when I get back down here, you won't be here, so, um...goodbye, um..." She still had no idea what his name was. He finally picked up on the reason for her awkward trail-off, blinked, and laughed again. "Derrick," he offered and stretched out his right hand to her, still holding the sheet up with his left. 

She gave another awkward smile and shook his outstretched hand. "Hermione." 

He laughed loudly. "Yes, I know. I haven't been living under a rock, you know."

That was as much as Hermione could cope with. "Right. Yes. Well - okay. Goodbye, Derrick." Hermione gathered her sheet up around her and walked up the stairs towards the shower with as much dignity as she could manage, which was minimal at best. She had half an hour until she was meant to be in the St Mungo's reception area, and she needed to find vials of Hangover Potion and Pepper-Up Potion as soon as possible. She put cute naked Derrick out of her mind and focussed on getting ready for her very first day as an Trainee Surgical Healer at St Mungo’s.

************

Thirty seven minutes later, Hermione snuck into the back of the operating theatre where she had been told that all the new St Mungo's Trainees for were gathered. Although she got a few looks, thankfully most people were focussed on the older Healer in his lime robes, standing at the front of the room, clearly in the middle of a welcome speech. 

"Each of you comes here today hopeful, wanting in on the game. Not that long ago, you were at Hogwarts, taking your NEWTs. From today... you are healers. The years you spend here learning to be a healer will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play... that's up to you."

Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation. She knew the Healer Trainee programme was competitive, the surgical path especially. But she knew that she was up for the challenge, the game of it all. She was the best student in her year. She could take on anyone else here.

She looked around curiously at the others in the room. There were plenty of familiar faces from Hogwarts. She knew Luna had also made it into the Surgical Trainee programme, along with three others in the room. Padme Patil was there, but Hermione knew from Luna that she had applied for the Research programme. As the older healer speech came to an end, and the Trainees took the opportunity to wander about the room looking at the layout, Hermione caught sight of a man with distinctly familiar platinum blond hair. _Oh... no..._ Her worst fears were confirmed when the man turned and his grey eyes met hers. _Draco Malfoy._ His face was impassive, and he held her gaze for a long moment, until she flushed and looked away. 

Thankfully, at the moment the older healer appeared in front of her. "Hermione Granger! We were thrilled to receive your application. Welcome to St Mungo's." Hermione realised that he was Hippocrates Smethwyck, the Chief Healer of the entire hospital. 

"Thank you, Chief Healer Smethwyck," she said politely. "I'm looking forward to learning as much as I can." 

"Excellent, because there is a lot to learn!" he assured her. "Now it's time for you to go and meet with your supervising Junior Healer, I believe." He looked down at his clipboard. "Surgical Trainees will be reporting to Junior Healer Edgecombe. You're meeting in the Surgical Healer staff lounge down the hall."

Hermione realised that almost no-one was left in the room. "Thank you. I'll head there now." She turned and exited the theatre. It wasn't until she was halfway down the corridor that she suddenly processed what he had said. _Junior Healer.... Edgecombe? Surely not..._ She pushed the door to the lounge open only to discover the four other Trainees already sat awkwardly at a table, with Marietta Edgecombe standing imperiously in front of them. As they heard the door open, everyone looked her way, and Marietta scowled. _Oh… Godric._

"How kind of you to join us, Trainee Healer Granger," Marietta said in a heavily sarcastic voice, emphasising the word ‘Trainee’. She gestured towards the table. “Please, come in.”

Hermione couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable if she tried. “Sorry, Junior Healer Edgecombe.” She ducked her head and scurried to the table, to sit down at the final empty chair. Only then did she look up, meeting Marietta’s eyes. Hermione could immediately tell that Marietta had a strong glamouring effect on her face, and desperately tried to restrain herself from wincing visibly. Marietta thankfully looked away from her, instead speaking toward the others at the table.

“Welcome to the Trainee Surgical Healer programme at St Mungo’s,” Marietta began briskly. “I am Junior Healer Edgecombe, and I will be your supervisor for your two Trainee years, before you become an Junior Healer in your third year, like me. Now, I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one - don't bother sucking up. I already hate you, and that’s not going to change.” Her eyes landed on Hermione, who did her best not to react. Marietta continued, “On the table in front of you, you’ll see the trauma protocol book and a token spelled with a Protean charm. Welcome witches will send you notifications using that token; it will vibrate with any new message.”

Hermione was rather gratified to see that St Mungo’s used a similar system for notifications as she had done with the fake Galleons for the DA back at Hogwarts. She glanced over at Luna, who was already smiling in her direction. She then looked at the other Trainees at the table, hoping they would also be DA members. Colin Creevey sat next to her, and gave her an enthusiastic grin. That was two for two; so far so good. He sat next to… oh, dammit; Malfoy. He was studying the token he had taken from the table. She really could have done without him being in the same programme as her. She literally hadn’t seen him since his trial, and she wondered if he had changed at all or if he was the same arrogant, bigoted jerk he had been throughout their years at school. The last Trainee was a pretty girl, with delicate features and dark hair. Hermione wasn’t sure of her name, but thought she might have been a Slytherin. The girl glanced up and gave her an inquiring look. Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Once everyone had taken their tokens and their trauma protocol books, Edgecombe continued. “You will answer every notification you get at a run. A run. That's rule number two.” She looked around to ensure everyone was listening. “Your first shift starts now and lasts 48 hours. You're Trainees, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the hospital food chain. You run labs, write orders, work every second night until you drop, and don't complain. On-call rooms – Senior Healers hog them. Sleep when you can where you can, which brings me to rule number three. If I'm sleeping, don't wake me unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four - the dying patient better not be dead when I get there. Not only will you have killed someone, you would have woken me for no good reason. We clear?”

The five Trainees nodded.

Malfoy put up his hand, and when Edgecombe acknowledged him, he drawled, “You said five rules. That was only four.”

Edgecombe pulled her token out of her pocket. They could see that it was visibly vibrating and had turned bright red. She checked the displayed message on it, and then barked, “Rule number five - when I move, you move.”

She strode to the door, swung it open, and then broke into a run. The five Trainees looked at each other in surprise and then scrambled to stand up from the table and follow her down the corridor.

************

“What do we have?” Marietta demanded as they gathered around the new patient in the trauma room. Professor Sprout stood by the patient, who Hermione could see was jerking around incessantly. “Kendra Bagnold, age sixteen. What appears to be seizures. Apparently intermittent for the past week. Madam Pomfrey is completely flummoxed. No apparent cause.”

Marietta nodded. “Thank you, Professor Sprout. We’ll take it from here.” Sprout nodded, shot the Trainees a kind smile, and then left the room, probably to return to Hogwarts. Marietta pulled out her wand. “Ok everyone, watch closely. There are a range of diagnostic spells we use, which I expect you learned in your NEWTs. I’ll demonstrate them now.” The Trainees nodded and jostled to get a better view, as Kendra’s body continued to judder about. Marietta waved her wand, stating clearly, “Sanguis Opus. Cerebrum Munus. Humanum Morbo.”

Hermione recognised the spells, but knew she wasn’t that knowledgeable about all the potential outputs. Clearly the other Trainees felt the same, as the spells each generated their own display of sparkling colours and images. “Hmm,” Edgecombe muttered. “If not that then.. hmm. Perhaps… Let’s try… Cantatio Historia. No.. that doesn’t help–” Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a tall dark-skinned man strode in. “What do we have, Edgecombe?” He looked down at the girl, who was still jerking about. “A wet fish on dry land, I see.”

“Yes, Senior Healer Shacklebolt.”

Shacklebolt? Hermione wondered what relation he might be to Kingsley. There was certainly some resemblance. “I’ve done the basic diagnostics. Brain function and blood work as expected, none of the simple non-magical diseases, no recent spellwork of note that I can see.”

Shacklebolt leaned in and examined the diagnostics, still glittering above the patient. “Yes. Okay. In that case – let’s go for the full workup.” He strode back out of the room as quickly as he had come in. As the door closed behind him, Kendra stopped her seizing, although she didn’t appear to wake up. Edgecombe turned to the Trainees. “Alright, everyone, we will need to run all the usual tests. Let’s see. Astoria – you’re on labs; Colin and Luna, patient work up. Let me know when she is awake.”

Hermione and Draco waited to be given a task, but it seemed as if Edgecombe had forgotten them. “Um, what about me?” Hermione asked gingerly.

Edgecombe shot her and Malfoy a scathing look. “Granger. Malfoy. I have the perfect job for you. Follow me.”

Ten minutes later, Hermione and Malfoy found themselves sitting either side of a patient who had been hit with a particularly nasty hex. His entire body was covered in pus-filled boils. Edgecombe told them to drain each boil individually and then apply a potion – by hand. Hermione gritted her teeth. “Yes, Healer Edgecombe.” The supervisor shot her a malicious grin, and walked off. Malfoy sighed and bent to get a closer look at the boil he was working on. A few drops of pus sprayed out, hitting him in the face. Hermione did her best not to laugh.

************

Edgecombe was reading through the charts of her patients in recovery when she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. “What do you want?” she growled, not looking up. 

“Sorry to bother you, Junior Healer Edgecombe. I took the blood sample up to the labs and they are running it through the usual tests now, but haven’t come up with anything so far. I thought you would like to know.” Edgecombe glanced up to find the pretty Slytherin girl, Astoria Greengrass, waiting patiently in front of her for a response. “Thank you, Greengrass,” she said. “Is that all?”

Greengrass looked cagey. “I heard that every year, the senior healer on call picks the best Trainee and lets them perform a procedure during the first shift.” Edgecombe raised an eyebrow. Greengrass shifted slightly, but added, “I'm just saying, it's what I heard.”

Edgecombe looked back down at her charts. “Go away, Greengrass. Now.”

“Yes, Junior Healer Edgecombe.”

************

Creevey finished the chart for Kendra and handed it over to the Welcome Witch, who smiled at him as she took it and filed it amongst a number of others. “Now what?” he asked her awkwardly.

“Are you free?” he heard. He turned around and found the Senior Healer from earlier gazing curiously at him.

“Yes, Senior Healer Shacklebolt.” He looked down nervously.

The tall man smiled. “Shacklebolt will do. Come with me.” He led the way to a patient’s room. “This is Ritchie Prang. I will be performing a procedure on him later today. Perhaps you can work out what the procedure might be?”

Creevey looked at the man in the bed, and ventured, “Removing the wings, sir?”

Ritchie chuckled. “That’s what I’m hoping. That’ll teach me to let my kid play with my wand.”

Shacklebolt nodded. “Do a full patient workup please.” He turned to Ritchie. “I’ll be back later to for a final check.” He handed the chart to Creevey and left the room.

************

Luna, Colin, and Astoria found themselves sitting together in the surgical lounge, four hours in, reading up on the diagnostic spells. Astoria was practicing the wand movements, while the other two were engrossed in the diagrams displaying the diagnostic outputs.

Hermione and Malfoy entered the room and slumped in the chairs next to them. “Hi, you guys,” Hermione offered, wearily. “You checking out the diagnostic spells?”

Astoria nodded absentmindedly. Luna looked up from her book and smiled serenely. “Yes, they’re very interesting, Hermione. I think you’ll enjoy learning about them.” Hermione smiled weakly back. Luna looked at her with concern, and then reached into her bag, pulling out and opening a large tin. “Dirigible plum muffin?” she offered, waving the open tin at Hermione, who grimaced and shook her head.

“This shift is a marathon, not a sprint. Eat,” Luna said kindly.

“I can’t.”

“You should eat something,” Luna repeated, frowning.

“You try eating after treating 37 pus-filled boils,” Hermione responded. “Ugh. Edgecombe hates me.” Luna patted her sympathetically on the arm, and put the tin away, instead passing her a copy of the textbook. Hermione took it gratefully and settled in to study.

At one point, she glanced up and met the eyes of the Slytherin witch, who was again practicing her wand movements, this time murmuring the accompanying incantations under her breath. Hermione smiled awkwardly, and said, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Astoria Greengrass,” the other witch offered politely.

Colin looked up and said eagerly, “Hi! I’m Colin Creevey. Lovely to meet you.” Astoria studied him for a moment, and then gave a curt nod before turning back to her book. Colin glanced at Hermione, who threw him a kind smile, and he smiled gratefully back.

“Oh, good, you’re all here.” The five of them looked up from their studies to find Shacklebolt standing there, glancing around at them, with Edgecombe at his side. “I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honour of performing the first procedure is reserved for the Trainee that shows the most promise. As I am the senior healer on call today, I get to make that choice.”

The five Trainees stared hopefully back at him.

“Colin Creevey.”

Colin blinked. “Me?”

“You’ll assist me with the wing removal surgery this afternoon. Congratulations.” Shacklebolt nodded to the group, and then swept from the room. Edgecombe paused, and said, “Malfoy. Granger. Kendra is awake. Take her for a full body scan.” She then followed Shacklebolt out.

Colin glanced around at four envious faces. “…Did he say me?”

************

Edgecombe stood with Shacklebolt outside the door. “Come on, Shacklebolt. Creevey barely made the cut to get into this programme. He’s not your guy.”

“He’s my guy, alright,” Shacklebolt insisted.

Edgecombe shook her head. “Every year, you pick your guy, and every year, your guy suffers more than any other Trainee.”

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line.”

“I get it, I respect it, but Colin Creevey was a Hufflepuff! And he’s the youngest.”

Shacklebolt just grinned.

************

Malfoy levitated Kendra on her stretcher, while Hermione tried desperately to work out where they were going.

“You’re lost,” Kendra said obstinately.

“I’m not lost.”

“Granger, I think you’re lost.”

“Shut up Malfoy. Ah – here it is.”

Malfoy levitated Kendra into the room marked BODY SCANS. Hermione handed the parchment over to the Healer inside, who flicked through the pages. “Hello, I’m Healer Pye. Okay, let’s take a look. Put her down on this bed over here. Kendra, is it? Lie down, please.”

The Healer then waved his wand over her body, slowly, starting at her toes. As he hovered his wand over each body part, it emanated a silver glow. When he reached her knees, there was a tinge of orange. “What’s this?” he asked. Malfoy looked confused, but Hermione stepped forward and said, “Kendra twisted her knee when she had her first seizure earlier today.” The Healer nodded and continued. Hermione couldn’t help but briefly peek at Malfoy, who looked thoroughly irritated that she was more knowledgeable than him – as usual. She shrugged internally; he should have read Colin’s patient workup. As Pye’s wand hovered over Kendra’s nose, the door flung open. “We have an emergency!” the Healer at the door barked, and levitated in a small child whose skin was entirely purple and who was swelled up like a balloon. The child was screaming loudly and Hermione and Draco both winced.

“OK – yes – ah, put the child down there,” Healer Pye told him, waving to another bed, and turned back to the Trainees. “Alright, take Kendra back to her room. I’ll send my notes down shortly.” Draco nodded and levitated their patient up and out of the room as promptly as he could, clearly eager to get away from the screaming child. Hermione followed them out.

They took her back to her room, and found an older couple waiting there, looking worried.

“Are you Kendra’s parents?” Hermione guessed, and wasn’t surprised when they nodded.

“Are you her Healer?” her mother asked. “Madame Pomfrey said she might need an operation. Is that true? What kind of operation?”

“Ah – well –“ Hermione panicked, and looked at Draco, but he looked as clueless as she felt. “You know what, I’m not her Healer. I’m a Healer, yes, but not Kendra’s Healer. I can go get them for you though.” She hurriedly left the room before they could ask her anything else. She looked around and saw Marietta standing over with some of the Soothers. She took a deep breath, and scurried over. “Sorry, Junior Healer Edgecombe-“ Marietta scowled at her. “Granger. What do you want?”

“Kendra’s parents are here, and they have questions. Do you talk to them, or do I ask Senior Healer Shacklebolt?”

No, Shacklebolt’s off the case. Kendra belongs to the new Senior Healer now. Senior Healer Selwyn. He's over there.” Marietta waved in the direction of the stairs, where Hermione could see a man leaned against the wall, obscured by shadow, reading some parchment.

“Thank you, Junior Healer Edgecombe.” Hermione walked over to the stairs. The Senior Healer looked up when he heard her approach.

She froze. _Oh… No way. Come on! This is the worst day ever. Goddammit._ She stepped up cautiously as the man shot a very familiar grin at her.

“Senior Healer Selwyn,” she began.

“Senior Healer Selwyn?!” he repeated. “This morning, it was Derrick. Now it’s Senior Healer Selwyn.” He winked at her.

“Senior Healer Selwyn,” she continued firmly, “we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened - you sleeping with me last night, or you throwing me out this morning?” he asked cheekily. “Because both are fond memories I'd like to hold onto.”

“No, there will be no memories,” she contested. “I'm not the witch in the bar anymore, and you're not the wizard. This can't exist. You get that, right?” She frowned at him.

Selwyn nodded seriously. “You took advantage of me, and now you want to forget about it. I was drunk, vulnerable, and good-looking, and you took advantage.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not today. Last night, I was very good-looking. I had my red dress robes on. You took advantage.”

“I did not take advantage!” she hissed.

Selwyn looked her up and down. “Want to take advantage again - say, Friday night?”

“No. You're a Senior Healer, and I'm your Trainee,” Hermione insisted. He didn’t respond, just staring at her with what she considered a very inappropriate look on his face. “Stop looking at me like that!” she demanded.

“Like what?”

“Like you've seen me naked,” she said, and blushed. He just grinned again. “Senior Healer Selwyn, this is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?”

He laughed.

Hermione had never met anyone so frustrating in her life. At least that she could remember at that very moment. But she had to do her best to be professional. “Kendra Bagnold’s parents have questions. You need to come meet them and talk to them.” She turned and walked away, just hoping he would follow. Thankfully she heard his footsteps behind her. She didn’t know what she would have done if he didn’t.

************

Hermione sat in the gallery overlooking the operating theatre with Luna, Malfoy, Astoria, and a number of other Trainees. Below them, the patient, Ritchie, was lying on his front. He had already been stunned and immobilised for the surgery. Shacklebolt was inspecting the wing sprout sites closely, and sharing observations with Creevey, who was standing apparently frozen at his side, almost as motionless as the patient.

“He's gonna faint. He's a fainter.” Hermione looked up to see a burly Resident Healer snickering to another, who chuckled back, “No, code brown, right in his pants.”

Draco offered, “Ten Sickles says he makes the wrong cut.”

The first Healer responded, “Fifteen says he cries.”

His friend laughed. “Hell, I'll put twenty Sickles on a total meltdown.”

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Fifty Sickles says he pulls the whole thing off!” They all looked up at her. “That's one of us down there, the first one of us.” She stared at Draco, who smirked back. “Where's your loyalty?”

Draco stared back at her, and said firmly, “Seventy-five Sickles says he faints at the first sign of blood.”

Luna piped up dreamily, “I'll take that action.” Draco swung around to look at her, clearly not having expected her to join in. She smiled at him. “Colin was in the DA. I think you’ll be surprised.” Hermione grinned.

Shacklebolt called for quiet, and began the procedure, using his wand to cut steadily along the line of the wings with a non-verbal spell. Colin followed his movements closely, using a cloth soaked in a blue potion to pat at the cuts carefully, stemming any bleeding. Hermione was pleased to see that he was keeping up with Shacklebolt and seemingly doing the task well.

“Ok, Creevey, let’s see what you can do,” Shacklebolt remarked. He pointed at where he had stopped, and offered some quiet instructions to Creevey, who nodded hesitantly and then stepped forward, wand at the ready. Hermione glanced around to see the others fully entranced by the surgery below.

Creevey began to work carefully on the final bit of wing that he was excising while a Soother took over his role of tending to the wounds with the blue potion. The observers watched quietly and Hermione felt triumphant as Colin appeared to be coping quite well with the procedure. “I told you, he’s going to pull it off!” she said. Draco frowned, but to his credit, pulled out 75 Sickles from his pocket and handed them to Luna, who took them graciously.

“-And that’s both wings off!” Shacklebolt said, and the gallery erupted in cheers. The senior Healer glanced up and frowned, and everyone quickly sat back down in silence. “Now, we just need to complete the Healing spells on the two open sections of skin, where the wings sprouted. You know the appropriate spell?”

Creevey answered uncertainly, “Vulnera Sanentur?”

“Yes, that’s it. Go ahead, Creevey,” Shacklebolt said, and Creevey stepped forward again to begin the final spellwork. As he began the incantation, Shacklebolt said, “Be careful not to flick your-“

Colin’s wand flicked. Suddenly the blood began seeping steadily from the wounds. “Wand. You flicked your wand at the end!” Shacklebolt exclaimed. “You’ve got a bleeder. What do you do now?”

“Uh-“ Creevey was frozen, staring at the patient, whose back was now covered in slick red blood.

“Think!” Shacklebolt exhorted him. Creevey couldn’t move. The gallery was silent, staring down at the scene. Hermione mentally begged him to get it together.

“Come on, Creevey!” Shacklebolt said, staring at him. Creevey’s eyes were wide, and his face was going white, but still he didn’t respond. The blood kept oozing out. There was so much of it.

A Soother spoke up. “Stats are low, Shacklebolt. We’re losing him.”

Shacklebolt stared furiously at Colin, and then sighed. “Get out of the way.” The Senior Healer stepped up closer to the body. “Pansy-ass idiot,” he grunted, and repeated, “Get him out of the way!”

Another Soother pulled Creevey to the side, while Shacklebolt flourished his wand and began murmuring incantantions steadily. The blood began to reverse back into Ritchie’s body. Creevey stepped backwards, horror written across his face, and then fled the room.

The resident Healers laughed and one handed money to another, as they got up to leave. One of them commented, “Dementor,” to the other, who snickered. “Definitely a Dementor.” Hermione couldn’t look at them, instead just watching as Shacklebolt gently sealed the wounds, and healed the patient.

When they were definitely gone, she looked up. Only the other Trainees remained in the gallery. “Dementor?” she asked.

Draco answered quietly, his eyes fixed on the patient. “Authorised to destroy souls.”

************

“They’re calling me Dementor, aren’t they?” Colin asked, miserably.

“No-one is calling you Dementor,” Hermione lied.

“I heard them. On the stairwell. They’re calling me Dementor.”

“They weren’t talking about you.” Hermione tried to focus on her textbook, but Colin wouldn’t be swayed. She was just glad that Malfoy wasn’t there, because he would not have been as kind.

“Dementor is a state of mind,” Luna said musingly.

“Says the girl who finished first in Charms, in both OWLs and NEWTs,” Astoria rejoined. “You even beat me.”

Hermione was saved from the discussion by her token vibrating in her pocket. “Oh Merlin, emergency for Kendra Bagnold. Gotta go.” She jumped to her feet and raced out of the lounge.

“Maybe I should have gone for the Janus Thickey Ward,” Colin mused. “No-one would mind if I killed Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Astoria laughed. “Surgery is hot. It's the Aurors of the medical world. It's macho. It's hostile. It's hard-core. Janus Thickey is for freaks who live with their mothers and never have sex.”

Colin’s face dropped. “I have got to get my own place.”

************

“Finally!” Kendra exclaimed as Hermione rushed into her room. “Took you long enough.”

Hermione stopped and stared at her. “You’re okay? I got notified there was an emergency.”

“I had to go all Tantellegra legs before she would even pick up the phone,” Kendra sniffed, leaning back against her pillows.

“Wait. There’s nothing wrong with you?”

The younger girl pouted. “I’m bored. They’ve only got old issues of Witch Weekly to read. I want the latest Quidditch Monthly. I have to train up. I tried out for Beater this week and I did terribly. I even stumbled off my broom at the end. It was so embarrassing! Can you find a copy of it for me?”

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. “What?! Look Kendra, this is an actual hospital. There are sick witches and wizards here. Go to sleep, and stop wasting my time.”

“But I can’t sleep,” Kendra whined. “My head’s all full.”

“That’s called thinking,” Hermione snapped. “Go with it.”

************

Astoria stared at the patient in front of her, and then looked around a little helplessly. A Soother took pity on her. “What do you need?”

Astoria frowned. “Mr Shunpike is severely dehydrated, but he’s not likely to wake up from his Stunning for hours. I need to start a central line for the hydration potion.”

The Soother nodded. “So start one.” Astoria bit her lip, and the Soother shook her head. “You don’t know how.”

“I’ve never done one,” Astoria admitted.

The Soother smiled. “Well, you know what that means.” She nodded over at a stretcher floating gently in the air nearby, on which Marietta was sprawled out and clearly asleep.

Astoria grimaced. “Can’t I just send a notification to someone else?” she asked weakly.

The Soother shook her head sympathetically. “She’s the on-call Healer.”

Astoria nodded. “Okay. Okay. Then. I’ll just… I’ll just wake her.” She walked timidly over to the stretcher, and whispered, “Healer Edgecombe? I don’t mean to bother you, but-”

“Then don’t,” Edgecombe retorted, both eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s just – it’s Mr. Shunpike. He’s-”

“Is he dying?” Edgecombe demanded.

“No,” Astoria said weakly.

“Then stop talking to me.”

Astoria stood there awkwardly for another moment. Edgecombe could clearly sense that she was still there, and sat up exasperatedly. “What?”

Astoria tried to look as apologetic as possible. “He needs a central line, and I’ve never done one.”

Edgecombe sighed, and clambered off the stretcher. “Follow me.” She blearily took Astoria through the procedure, and then shoved her wand back in the pocket of her robes. “Next time you wake me, he better be so close to dead, there's a tag on his toe.”

************

22 hours in, Hermione found herself doing intake. As new patients arrived, they met with the Welcome Witch, who then directed them to the initial assessment ward so that Healers or Soothers could determine the best course of action; anything from a simple potion through to admitting the patient for further tests. Trauma was managed in a separate room, which Hermione was glad about. She was feeling a little drained, and the quiet assessment work was far less stressful than dealing with new traumas. Of course it wasn't completely stress free. She could hear Malfoy dealing with the patient in the bed next to her through the curtains that separated them. 

"4B has scrofungulus," he drawled arrogantly. "Let's start her on a regimen of Collo Marasmiaceae Potion." The Soother he was with gestured to the side, and they moved away from the bed, but still within Hermione's hearing range. The Soother said quietly, "Are you sure that's the right diagnosis?"  
  
Draco's voice turned sarcastic. "Well, I don't know. I'm only a trainee. Why don't you go back to Hogwarts and get Outstanding on your Healing NEWT and then let me know if it's the right diagnosis?" Hermione took a sharp breath in. How could he be so rude? Wait, who was she kidding. This was Malfoy after all. As she smiled at her patient, and stepped out from behind the curtain to take the chart back to the Soothers's station, she heard him add, "She has the rash. She's finding it hard to breathe. Her nose is turning yellow. Just start the Collo Marasmiaceae."

A moment later, he strode up to stand next to her, finalising the notes on the chart, murmuring, "Godric, I hate Soothers." He glanced up to see her staring steadily back at him. "She may not have scrofungulus, you know. Spinofungulus can present similarly, as can vesaliofungulus." 

Malfoy flushed, and sneered, "Like I said, I hate Soothers."  
  
"What did you just say? Did you just call me a Soother?" Hermione demanded. Soothers were hardworking, unfailingly kind, and the backbone of St Mungo's, but historically, Soothers had been female while Healers were male. Malfoy calling her a Soother was a clear display of misogyny and she simply wasn't having it. She slipped her hand around her wand in anger. If she had to hex him to-

Dammit. Her token was vibrating again. She grabbed it out of her pocket and quickly read the inscription. "Dammit, Kendra." She shot Malfoy a final look of anger and then scurried off to check on her patient, having received another emergency alert. As she went, she heard him say quietly, "Well, if the white cap fits." She frowned. He'd pay for this.

She strode up to Kendra's room, not bothering to run, given that the notification was probably because Kendra wanted her pillows fluffed, or another plate of ice cream. It wasn't until she was in Kendra's corridor and saw Soothers rushing into Kendra room that she realised she had been called for a real emergency. She broke into a run, and burst into Kendra's room to find the young girl jerking about again, her limbs thrashing about. The seizure was so violent that Hermione was worried she might actually cause herself more damage. Suddenly, one of the silver instruments on the side of the room started flashing red. An older Soother glanced at it and saw Hermione standing white-faced in the doorway. "Traineer Healer Granger! What took you so long? She's having multiple grand mal seizures. How do you want to proceed?"

Hermione didn't know what to do. The instruments were flashing and beeping at the side of the room. Two Soothers were trying to hold Kendra down, while the third looked impatiently at her, waiting for direction. "Trainee Granger!" she said again. "You need to tell us what to do." 

For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione's mind was entirely blank. She didn't know the answer. She was totally terrified. 

"Uh- Have you given her a Calming Draught?" Hermione asked hopefully. She stepped closer to the bed and started flicking through the chart. 

"She's had 250 millitres," the Soother confirmed, still staring at her, waiting for further instruction as Kendra continued to thrash about.

"Have you notified Senior Healer Selwyn? Healer Edgecombe?" Hermione asked desperately. 

The Soother nodded, and looked back at the instruments. "Calming Draught isn't working. What next?"

Hermione frowned. She could do this. She had received an Outstanding on her Healing NEWT. She knew what to do. She thought quickly. "Potion of Peace. Load her with Potion of Peace." The Soother raised her wand. "Accio Potion of Peace!" A vial flew into her hand, and she added it to the central line. They waited for a moment, but.. "No change," the Soother confirmed.

 _Shit!_ _Fuck fuck fuck..._ "You've notified Healer Selwyn, yes?"

The Soother nodded impatiently. "I just told you."

"Well notify him again! Stat!"

Kendra kept seizing. The Soothers kept holding her down. Hermione kept panicking. "Trainee Granger!" the Senior Soother said impatiently. "You need to tell us what to do." Suddenly one of the devices at the side of the room flew into the air, emitting blue sparks and a painfully piercing beeping. One of the Soothers next to Kendra glanced up at it and called out, "Heart's stopped!" The senior Soother immediately reached for her wand and produced a line of blue smoke, which shot from her wand and curled out of the door in the direction of the Soother station at the end of the hall. She then pulled out her token and tapped it, murmuring an incantation and then saying clearly, "Code Blue!" Hermione looked down at the token in her hand. It had turned blue and was vibrating incessantly. 

Suddenly, two more Soothers shot into the room, pushing a trolley with a Muggle defibrillator on top. Granger knew that she would be responsible for using it as the only Healer in the room, even if it was only her first day. She had been trained on their use, of course, as part of her NEWT and during the advanced Muggle first aid course she taken over the summer, but this was the first time she would need to use it on a patient who might die if she didn't get it right. She took a quick deep breath and then stepped forward. One of the new Soothers handed her the paddles. Hermione stared down at them and gathered her courage. "Charge to 200," she said, and the Soother confirmed, "Charged." 

"Clear!" Everyone stepped back from Kendra, and Hermione determinedly stepped in and applied the paddles to her chest. Nothing.

"Charge to 300," Hermione called.

"Charged."

She tried again; still nothing. "Charge to 360!" she called shrilly. They did so, and she tried a third time. Still nothing. 

The Soother who had notified them that the heart had stopped called out, "45 seconds." The senior Soother eyed Hermione and advised, "When she gets to 60 seconds, you're meant to administer another potion." Hermione had no idea what other potion she could suggest. A Pepper-Up potion was hardly going to cut it. She ignored the witch for a moment and called, "Charge again." When she didn't immediately hear a response, she demanded, "Charge again!"

"Charged," the Soother responded.

Hermione felt a desperate hope surge through her. "Clear!" She yelled, and applied the paddles. She waited a moment, and then blurted out, "Anything?"

The Soother watching the device that was emitting blue sparks glanced back at it and announced, "I see sinus rhythm." The blue sparks and piercing beeps suddenly ceased, and the device flew back to the shelf it had come from. Another Soother ran a quick diagnostic spell and said, "Blood pressure is coming back up." Granger watched as the Soothers performed further diagnostic spells and appeared happy with the results, and the devices on the side of the room settled.

As she was still catching her breath, Senior Healer Selwyn barrelled into the room. "What the hell happened?" he demanded. No more flirty grins. 

Hermione spluttered, "She had a seizure, and her heart stopped!"

Selwyn looked at her angrily. "You were supposed to be monitoring her!"

She choked out, "I checked on her-" but he cut her off. "Go. Just go." He bent over Kendra and started checking her vitals. Hermione stood watching for a moment, still in shock, but he ignored her. "Someone get me her chart," he said to the Soothers. 

Hermione backed out of the room and into the hallway, where she was met with a furious Edgecombe. "You get a emergency notification, you page me immediately; not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency, immediately! You're on my team, and if somebody dies, it's my ass, you hear-" Her voice faded into a meaningless blur. Hermione walked blankly straight past Edgecombe and down the corridor. "Granger?" Edgecombe yelled, but Hermione barely noticed as she pushed through the door to exit the Ward. She kept walking, oblivious to anything around her, including Greengrass and Malfoy standing at the Soothers' station. "Granger?" Astoria asked curiously, but Hermione didn't hear her. She spotted the bathrooms and strode towards them, her steps quickening. She made it into a cubicle just in time to vomit, the anxiety tearing through her stomach. 

It wasn't until she stepped back out of the cubicle that she realised Greengrass had followed her into the bathroom, and was looking at her with a slightly amused expression. Hermione stood up straight and strode past her, warning, "You tell anyone, ever-". She didn't think she needed to finish that sentence. As she walked back out of the bathroom, Astoria allowed herself a slight smirk, and then followed her back out.

************

A few hours later, Hermione walked past Kendra's room. Selwyn was in there, with some very upset parents. Hermione paused to eavesdrop. 

Mr Bagnolt challenged, "You said it was a seizure disorder. Now you're saying it isn't?"  
  
Selwyn responded calmly, "I'm saying that I don't know."  
  
"What do you think it could be?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"When will you know?" Mr Bagnolt demanded.  
  
"I don't have an answer for you," Selwyn admitted. "For now, Kendra is stable, and -"

"Wait one damn minute. We came here because we figured it would be better than going to some damn Muggle hospital. That's my kid in there - my kid - and you have the audacity to stand here and tell me you don't know."  
  
"Mr. Bagnolt -" Selwyn attempted, but Mr. Bagnolt talked over him. "No, I want someone else, a Healer who knows what they're doing. You get me someone else. Someone better than you."  
  
"Mr. Bagnolt, I assure you that I am working hard on Katie's case," Selwyn said firmly.  
  
"No, you're not. If you were, you'd be able to give me some answers."

Hermione moved quickly away. She didn't have the answers they were asking for.

************

Creevey was surprised when Shacklebolt tells him to assist with his next patient, assuming he had lost all credibility with the Senior Healer. Still, he jumps to it; he was a Gryffindor, after all. He follows the Healer into a patient room, where he finds a large man wearing a hospital gown, tucked neatly into the bed in the centre of the room; his nervous-looking wife was sitting beside him and a couple of small girls playing on the floor. "Good morning," Shacklebolt says politely. "I will be the Healer for your surgery today. Would you like me to take you through the process of the surgery?"

The man nods jovially. Creevey looks closer at him, but he can't see anything wrong. Shacklebolt runs through the procedure and as Creevey listens, he realises that somehow the man has stuck his legs together and he is having surgery to separate them. He listens quietly, and as the Healer finishes his explanation, he remarked, "So I shouldn't worry?"

Shacklebolt gave him a small smile, and said, "I'm very good at what I do. But still it's surgery. There are some risks." The patient nodded in acceptance, and Shacklebolt moved towards the door, with a final, "I'll see you in the O.R. this afternoon, Mr. Savitch," over his shoulder as he exited the room.  
  
"You're not gonna leave me alone with that guy, are you?" chuckled Savitch, but Creevey heard a hint of fear in his voice.

"Oh, I'll be outside the operating room the whole time. And Healer Shacklebolt is very good. Don't worry. I'll see you after," Creevey assured him. He stepped out of the room, but found that Savitch's wife had followed him into the hallway. "He'll be fine, right?" she said, clearly anxious about the procedure.   
  
"He's gonna sail through it. You have nothing to worry about - I promise," Creevey immediately responded.   
  
************

26 hours after they started their shift, the motley group of Trainee Surgical Healers have all received notifications to assemble in the surgical Healer’s lounge. Hermione appeared first and took a seat at the table, furiously reviewing charts while taking the opportunity of the peaceful moment to munch on a banana. Luna arrived a minute later and sat facing her, humming quietly to herself while flicking through the diagnostics textbook. Malfoy and Greengrass both took up positions in the comfortable armchairs; Malfoy sat quietly with his eyes closed for the past ten minutes, causing Hermione to wonder if he was taking a nap. If so, she was jealous. The adrenaline racing through her vascular system was just enough to keep her awake, but not nearly enough to make her feel alert. She glanced over at Greengrass, who was also reading through patient charts, but acknowledged Hermione’s glance with a polite nod. Hermione was surprised that Greengrass apparently hadn’t said anything to her fellow Slytherin; there is no way Malfoy wouldn’t be teasing her mercilessly if he knew she had thrown up after a Code Blue.

Creevey then came strolling in, looking cheerful. Apparently Malfoy wasn’t actually napping, because as Creevey neared the table, he remarked, “Been sucking souls, Dementor?” although his eyes remained closed. Hermione and Creevey both shot him a filthy look, and the faint smirk on his face suggested that he had predicted such a response. Creevey cleared his throat awkwardly and sat down at the table. “You know what? I don't care. I comforted a family, and I got to hang out in the O.R. today. All is well.” He grinned happily, and Luna and Hermione smiled back.

Greengrass suddenly stood up and walked over to the table to join them, and Malfoy stiffly followed suit. “Does anyone know why we’re here?” asked Greengrass curiously, but only got blank looks in return. 

Her question was promptly answered, however, as Senior Healer Selwyn strode into the room, followed by Edgecombe, carrying a stack of parchment. Hermione immediately dropped her gaze to the table to avoid meeting his eye. She didn’t realise that Greengrass noticed, almost imperceptibly raising an eyebrow.

Without preamble, Selwyn began speaking. “Well, good morning. I'm gonna do something pretty rare for a senior Healer. I'm going to ask trainees for help.” The Trainees glanced at each other, intrigued. He continued, “I've got this kid, Kendra Bagnolt. Right now, she's a mystery. She doesn't respond to our potions. The labs are clean, the scans are pure, but she's having seizures - grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die if I don't make a diagnosis, which is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes. I need you to play detective. I need you to find out why Kendra is having seizures. I know you're tired. You're busy. You got more work than you can possibly handle.” Hermione almost snorted in agreement. She had six patient charts she needed to review already sitting on the table in front of her. Selwyn clarified, “I understand, so I'm going to give you an incentive. Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Kendra needs surgery. If you come up with the right answer, you get to do what no Trainees get to do - scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure.”

The Trainees were leaning forward in anticipation. That kind of involvement so early in the programme – the first shift – was basically unheard of.

“Healer Edgecombe is going to hand around copies of Kendra’s chart.” He nodded at Marietta, who distributed the files. “The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Kendra’s life, we have to do it soon.”

************

Half an hour later, Hermione and Astoria were the only ones left in the lounge. Hermione was thinking about rounding on her patients again, when Astoria suddenly piped up, “Hey, I want in on Selwyn’s surgery. You’ve been rounding on her, right? You want to work together? If we find the answer, we have a 50-50 chance of scrubbing in.”

Hermione glanced up, surprised, but not averse to the idea. “I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery. You can have it,” she responded evenly.

“You're kidding? It's the biggest opportunity any trainee will ever get! Especially this early on,” Astoria exclaimed, clearly confused by Hermione’s offer.

“I don't want to spend any more time with Selwyn than I have to,” Hermione explained, and then bit her lip at the admission.

Astoria raised a cool eyebrow. “What do you have against Selwyn?”

Hermione ignored the question, and responded, “If we find the answer, the surgery's yours. Do you want to work together or not?”

Astoria grinned. “Deal.”

They reviewed the charts once more, and then tossed a few ideas about.

“So she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure, or acidosis,” Astoria said confidently, and Hermione nodded, adding, “And it's not a tumour, because her body scan was clean – I saw it.”

Astoria paused, and then asked openly, “Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Selwyn?”

“No,” Hermione said shortly. “What about some kind of infection?”

“No, there's no white count, and she has no lesions, no fevers.” Astoria paused again. “Just tell me.”

Hermione realised that Astoria wasn’t going to let it go, and sighed. She had kept the vomiting a secret after all. Perhaps she could be trusted. “You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way,” she warned.

Astoria nodded.

“We had sex,” Hermione confided.

Astoria’s face remained entirely blank for a long moment, and then she offered smoothly, “What about an aneurysm?”

Hermione shook her head. “It would have come up on the scan.”

“Okay… there's no drug use, no pregnancy, no trauma,” Astoria remarked, flipping through the charts. She then snuck a glance back at Hermione. “Was he good?... I mean, he looks like he'd be good. Was it any good?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Astoria gave her a quick grin.

Hermione stared back down at the chart, and then pushed it away in frustration. “We're out of answers. What if no one comes up with anything?

“You mean what if she dies?” Astoria queried.

“Yeah.”

“This is gonna sound really bad, but…. I really wanted that surgery,” Astoria confided.

Hermione didn’t react, too busy thinking about the young girl they were trying to save. “She's just never gonna get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.” She grinned over at Astoria. “Guess what position.”

Astoria raised an eyebrow.

“Beater.”

“Oh, come on.” Astoria laughed. Hermione chuckled with her a moment, but then her face froze is realisation. Astoria registered her change in expression and leaned close, immediately serious. “What?” Hermione didn’t answer. “Granger, what?”

“Get up. Come on.”

************

As Selwyn finished up with a post-operative patient, he registered Hermione and Astoria barrelling in his direction. As they got within his vicinity, Astoria called out, “Senior Healer Selwyn, just one moment?” He looked at them expectantly. She continued, “Kendra recently tried out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

Selwyn grinned. “I know that, but we have to save her life, anyway.”

Hermione ignored him, and explained, “She has no headaches, no neck pain, her body scan was clean… There's no medical proof of an aneurysm.”

“Right,” he said, waiting for the ‘but’. Right on cue, Astoria added, “But what if she has an aneurysm, anyway?”

He shook his head. “There are no indicators.”

“She stumbled off her broom and twisted her knee,” Hermione countered.

Selwyn had lost interest. “I appreciate you trying to help, but –”

Hermione wasn’t finished. “She fell when she twisted her knee. She fell. It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head. She went to Madame Pomfrey who treated her knee, and everything was fine. It was a fall so minor, Sprout didn't even mention it to the Welcome Witch, but she did fall.”

“You know what the chance is that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm?” Selwyn said skeptically. “One in a million - literally.” He studied their faces for a minute, and then said abruptly, “Let's go.”

“Where?” Astoria asked.

To find out if Kendra is one in a million,” he answered, and grinned.

************

“I'll be damned. There it is,” Selwyn breathed. “It's minute, but it's there. It's a subarachnoid hemorrhage. She's bleeding into her brain. She could have gone through her entire life without it ever being a problem. One tap in the right spot...”

“- And it exploded,” Healer Pye said softly. “Selwyn, I’m so sorry I missed it. She was here at the same time as an emergency paediatric case. I think I missed the very top of her head when I did the scan.” Hermione recalled the cacophony of the screaming purple ballooning child.

“Exactly. Now I can fix it,” Selwyn said, staring at the diagnostic. “Don’t worry Pye. We’ve got it now.” He turned to the two Trainees. “You two did great work. I’d love to stay and kiss your arses, but I’ve got to tell Kendra’s parents she's having surgery.”

As he turned for the door, Astoria quickly spoke up. “Dr. Selwyn, you'd said that you'd pick someone to assist if we helped?”

Selwyn glanced back. “Oh, yes, right. I'm sorry I can't take you both. It's gonna be a full house. Hermione, I'll see you in the operating room.”

Hermione blinked and slowly nodded. “Good. Thank you.” He said, and strode out of the room, levitating a sleeping Kendra back to her room.

Greengrass’s mouth was pursed tightly as she stared down at Hermione.

“Astoria…” Hermione said weakly, but Greengrass ignored her as she stormed out of the room.

************

“Wow, that was quick!” Colin said brightly as Shacklebolt exited the operating room.

“The wounds bled much more extensively than I expected,” Shacklebolt said tersely. “I had to let him go. It happens - rarely, but it does happen - the worst part of the game.”

Colin blinked with incomprehension, stammering, “But I told his wife that he would be fine. I promised her that– “

“–You what?” Shacklebolt interjected furiously.

Colin stared up at him, face white. “They have two little girls,” he mumbled.

Fury crossed Shacklebolt’s proud features. “This is my case. Did you hear me promise? You never promise a patient's family a good outcome!”

Colin blanched. “I thought...”

Shacklebolt dismissed his weak protests. “You're important enough to make promises to Mrs. Savitch? You get to be the one to tell her that she's a widow.”

************

“Maybe Hermione couldn't –“ Luna offered bravely.

Astoria glared at her. “Luna.”

“I'll tell him I changed my mind,” Hermione offered, her face flushed.

Astoria shook her head. “Don't do me any favors. It's fine.”

“Astoria…”

“You did a cutthroat thing. Deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution. You want to be a snake, be a snake.”

“I'm not –“ Hermione protested.

Astoria cut her off. “Oh, yes, you are. Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm, gooey places. Screw you. I don't get picked for surgeries 'cause I slept with my boss, and I didn't get into the trainee programme just because I’m the wonderful Golden Girl. Some of us have to earn what we get.”

************

Colin stood in front of Savitch’s wife. His hands were trembling. He could barely meet her eyes. “Mrs Savitch, there were complications in the surgery. Mr. Savitch had a reaction to the potions we used, and we couldn’t stop the bleeding. We tried to heal him, but... there wasn't anything we could have done.”

The woman stared back at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

Creevey swallowed. “He… Mr Savitch… died. He's dead.”

Her face went pale.

“Mrs. Savitch, I am so sorry,” Creevey said, a raw pain ripping through his chest.

She blinked, and then looked up at him. “Please... go away.” She turned to her little girls, pulled them close to her, and began to cry.

Creevey ran.

***********

Kendra was propped on the surgery table, and Selwyn was showing Hermione how to perform tidy hair trimming spells. “I promised I'd make her look cool,” he explained. “Apparently, being a bald 16 year old witch is the worst thing that happened in the history of the world.”

Hermione couldn’t hold it in anymore. She whispered, “Did you choose me for the surgery because I slept with you?”

“Yes,” Selwyn said nonchalantly, and then glanced at her and shook his head. “I'm kidding.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. “I'm not gonna scrub in for surgery,” she eventually declared. “You should ask Astoria. She really wants it.”

Selwyn looked her in the eyes. “You're Katie's doctor. And on your first day, with very little training, you helped save her life. You earned the right to follow her case through to the finish. You shouldn't let the fact that we had sex get in the way of you taking your shot.”

Hermione looked into his kind blue eyes, and swallowed down her concerns.

************

“I wish I wanted to be a barkeep,” Colin mused. “Or a Floo cleaner, or the Arithmancy Professor.”

“You know, I would have been a really good Care of Magical Creatures Professor,” Luna said thoughtfully. “I'm very patient.”

Colin turned to her. “You know, my parents tell every witch and wizard they meet that their son's a Healer, as if it's a big accomplishment – a superhero or something.” He sighed. “If they could see me now.”

“When I told my last boyfriend that I wanted to join the surgical healing programme here at St Mungo’s, he tried to talk me out of it,” Luna admitted. “He said I wouldn’t like being a surgical Healer, that I'd never make it. So the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good.”

Creevey offered her a small grin. “We're gonna survive this, right?”

Luna smiled warmly back, and nodded.

************

Forty-two hours in. Hermione had spent a good ten hours in surgery with. She was now back in the intake ward, checking up on her earlier patients. She saw that Malfoy was back standing with the patient he had earlier diagnosed with scrofungulus. The same Soother stood next to him, and observed, “She's still short of breath.”

Suddenly the Chief Healer, Smethwyck, materialised by the patient’s bed, almost as if he had Apparated there. He picked up at the chart, and flicked through it. “Did you think of getting her a body scan?”

“Oh, yes, sir, I did,” Malfoy assured him smoothly.

“And what did you see?”

Draco squirmed. “Oh, well, I had a lot of patients last night and–”

Smethwyck was clearly unimpressed. “Name the common causes of this particular throat rash.”

“Uh,” Malfoy muttered, and reached into his pocket, clearly looking for his reference book.

“From your head, not from a book,” Smethwyck reproached him. “Don't look it up. Learn it. It should be in your head. He glanced around at the other Soothers and Trainee healers in the room. “Can anybody name the common causes of this rash?”

Hermione was the only one to answer. “Scrofungulus, spinofungulus, and vesaliofungulus.”

Smethwyck looked at her keenly. “What do you think's wrong with 4B?” he asked.

“The third option. Vesaliofungulus. I think it’s her larynx.”

“How would you diagnose?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Body scan, to check for internal marks on the voicebox; blood diagnostics to check for increased re blood count; regular observation to determine response to the Vox Marasmiaceae potion.”

Smethwyck nodded, and turned to Malfoy. “Do exactly as she says, then tell Edgecombe that I want you off this case.”

************

Hermione watched Selywn with bated breath as he expertly removed the aneurysm from Kendra’s brain, and thought to herself, _I can't think of any one reason why I want to be a surgical Healer...but I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit. They make it hard on purpose. There are lives in our hands. There comes a moment when it's more than just a game...And you either take that step forward or turn around and walk away. I could quit, but here's the thing... I love the playing field._

At one point, she looked up, and saw Astoria watching the procedure closely from the gallery.

Once Selwyn had showed her how to neatly knit the skull back together in perfect alignment, and was completing his post-op notes, Hermione stepped out into the corridor, completely awestruck by what she had just witnessed. She found Astoria waiting quietly outside the operating room door.

“It was good surgery,” Astoria offered, and Hermione could only respond, “Yeah.” The two witches smiled cautiously at each other.

“We don't have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there's a moment…” Astoria said, curling her lip.

Hermione grinned. “Yuck.”

Astoria looked relieved. “Good.” She observed Hermione for a moment. “You should get some sleep. You look like crap.”

“I look better than you,” Hermione retorted.

Astoria smiled, her perfect teeth glinting in the bright lights of the corridor. “That's not possible.” She strode off.

Hermione waited there for Selwyn to come out. When he did, he stopped and smiled warmly at the ecstatic expression on her face. “That was amazing,” she breathed. “You practice for your NEWTs... you observe... and you think you know what you're gonna feel like, standing over that table, but... that was such a high! I don't know why anybody does recreational potions.”

“Yeah,” he responded.

“Yeah,” she echoed, and their eyes met in a moment of perfect understanding. Then he blinked, and waved the chart in his hand. “I should, uh, go do this,” he proclaimed.

“You should.” Hermione nodded.

“I'll see you around.”

************

“So, I made it through my first shift. We all did.” Hermione thought back to the blissful moment that she and the other Trainees emerged together into the morning light outside St Mungo’s, after their first gruelling shift. She turned back to her mother, who sat opposite her in a comfortable armchair, the afternoon light falling across her hair, so like Hermione’s. “The other Trainees are all – well, mostly good people. You'd like them...I think. I don't know - maybe. I like them.” She took a breath, and added. “Oh, and I changed my mind. I am going to keep living at Grimmauld Place. I'll have to get a couple of roommates, but... it's home, you know?”

Her mother glanced up at her. “Are you the doctor?”

Hermione sighed. “No. I'm not your doctor, but I am a doctor… sort of.”

“What's your name?” her mother queried softly.

“It's me, mum - Hermione.”

“All right,” her mother nodded, although Hermione didn’t know if she understood. “I went to medical school, I think.”

Hermione smiled, as her heart tightened in her chest. “You did, mom. You studied dentistry.” She took the older woman’s hand, and the two of them sat quietly, a single tear rolling down Hermione’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Shall I do episode 2? And if you have any great ideas for magical maladies and mishaps let me know as I'm struggling to be creative :(


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